


Readjustment

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Gay For You, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Reunion Sex, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: When the band ended, so did they.Of course they never discussed what was supposed to happen if they ever got back together.





	Readjustment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ausfil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausfil/gifts).



Nicky had forgotten.

Okay, not forgotten exactly. Pushed it to the back of his mind, maybe. Written the whole thing off as a phase.

A phase that had happened to last 14 years or so, but a phase nonetheless. One that had been part of that manic, exhausting, somehow endless but over-too-quick chunk of their lives that had ended in a blaze of fireworks and tears and their hands slipping apart at some point in the morning as they'd gone to separate cars for the last time.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Shane's smile is still the same. The rest of him... different. Older, yeah, but the last seven years have been a long time. He's leaner. There's muscles where his arms emerge from a t-shirt that's fitted just right. Different routines to the old slog of the Westlife gym sessions and Nicky knows he isn't the same either.

But Jesus...

“The others here yet?”

“Er...” Nicky glances at his watch. “No. I mean, you're two hours early, so...” Shane shrugs, as though that's just a thing and Nicky isn't still in his gym shorts and an old tee. “Why are you two hours early?”

“Just...” A nervous quirk at his mouth. “Thought I'd hang out. Before everything.”

“Everything. Yeah.” His lips look for more words, doesn't find them. “I'll have a quick shower then. Just finished...” He gestures over his shoulder to where he supposes Shane remembers the gym is. Gets an understanding nod back. “You want a drink or something?”

“Water?”

“Cool. So...come in.”

It's weird having Shane back in his house. So weird. Not like having him at the radio station, where he's in charge and there's a desk and producers and the listening public between them. Not like being at Shane's gig either. Heart in his mouth and feeling that sudden rush of pride and strange sense of removal from his body that Shane's singing down _there_ but he's up _here_. The disconnect of being in two different places, at two different times in their lives.

Except now Shane's standing in his damn kitchen with a glass in one hand and the W word hazily waiting to escape one of their mouths.

“Surprised you wanted to do this.”

“I'm surprised _you_ did,” Nicky replies, not able to help a laugh. Shane smirks back. “Fancy solo career. Why you slumming it back with us lot?”

“I wouldn't call it slumming,” Shane chuckles. Nicky snorts. No, he wouldn't either. Not that he knows if people are going to give a shit, seven years later. “Dunno. If there's a right time I guess this feels like it.” He takes a sip of his water, hesitates for a moment before putting the glass back down on the counter. “It was fun. It was lonely as well.”

“Oh.”

“You know. Going to Asia all the time with the kids at home.”

“Of course,” Nicky says quickly, though his heart sinks traitorously. “I mean, the kids, obviously. Can't have been easy.” He picks up his own glass. Hears the gulp in the silent room then wipes his mouth. When he puts it back down Shane's staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing. You look good.”

“Oh.” Nicky glances down. “Thanks. You too.” He sees Shane's eyebrow quirk and doesn't want to feel... “Everyone's out for the day,” he adds. “Said they'd give us the house so we could talk or whatever.”

“They left early.”

“Yeah. Going to visit her mam.”

Awkward silence. Shane's fingernails drum on the countertop.

He starts to giggle.

“What?” Nicky's surprised into a laugh as well. Shane shakes his head. Lifts his glass to his mouth but his eyes are creasing and maybe there's more lines there than before but it's the same old damn laugh that used to make Nicky... “Filan, you prick, what?”

“Just... whatever,” he laughs. Nicky grins as well, punches his friend gently in the shoulder. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Nicky admits. Shane puts his glass down. Moves closer.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Yeah,” Nicky agrees. Leans back a little but his feet don't want to commit to a step. “We did always say it was over.”

“How many times did we say that?” Shane leans against the counter, blessedly, looks like he's waiting for Nicky to make the next move, though Nicky's feet are rooted to the spot, his hands wanting to reach out and...

“Usually after the third or fourth vodka.”

“I just remember what used to happen around the sixth,” Shane points out. Nicky snorts. Fair enough. “We said we'd end it when the band did. Doesn't count when it's the band.”

“We're not back together yet.”

“Course we are. Kian's been ringing me almost every day with ideas. Mark's switched to salads.”

“I've been talking to the radio station,” Nicky admits. “About time off.”

“What about Strictly?”

“I don't _know_ , Shane.” He sighs. “That's what we're supposed to be figuring out today, isn't it?”

“We've got almost two hours.”

“So you came over here for a quickie?”

“No, I came over to figure out...” Shane bites his lip, and Nicky stares back, wanting not to suck it from his mouth and sink his own teeth into succulent flesh. “What we are to each other. If...” He sighs, and when he speaks again his voice breaks, just a little. “I dunno. If you feel the same way.”

“What way is that?”

“If you still love me.” Comes out soft. “If you still want me.” He looks up. Hazel eyes that have been confident for almost twenty years but suddenly look young again. That laughing teenager Nicky had felt a connection to all those years ago. “If we're still...” His fingers catch Nicky's fist, wrap around the back to cup it loosely. Nicky's hand loosens. Feels a thumb caress his.

He bites his own lip. Shane breathes out. Steps in.

“We're not going to start up again pretending it didn't happen, are we? You know what we're like. We'll get drunk, do something stupid, fight about it, then get all guilty and pull the silent treatment and honestly I'm just too old to bother with that sort of highschool crap.” Nicky can't help but smile. Remember that, fuck, Shane knows him. “If we're going to jump in with both feet we might as well look where we're going.”

“We don't have to jump at all.”

“Is that what you want?”

He doesn't know. Wants to pretend he hasn't spent too much time turning it over in his head. Remembering the times Shane used to breathe in his ear, weight him to the bed. Touch him while he'd touch back, drunk at three in the morning and both of them saying things neither of them would admit to in the hangover.

Remembers Nandos dates too. Sitting in the cinema sneaking their hands together in the empty popcorn bucket. Having stupid jokes and stupid fights and knocking on Shane's door when he was on the edge of tears and just needed someone to tell him everything was alright and of course it was okay to be homesick.

“I miss you,” he murmurs. The thumb ducks under his and presses to his palm. “I miss us.” He laughs bitterly. “She asked me if we were going to pick it back up again.”

“What did you say?”

“That I didn't know,” Nicky admits. “Have you guys talked about it?”

“She doesn't want the details, but yeah.”

“Yeah,” Nicky murmurs. He'd heard much the same. “We're lucky, lucky bastards.” Shane grins.

“We really are.”

“I'm...” Nicky makes a decision. “I'm going to go take a shower in the guest bathroom. Get out of these clothes.” Shane's silence weights at him, expectant. “You should pour us a couple of drinks. Whatever you like. Drink cabinet's...”

“I know where it is.”

“Course you do.” They both grimace. “Ehm. Hang out in the bedroom if you like. I'll come in when I'm done. Feel free to take a shower or whatever if you want. I haven't done this in a while, I'll warn you.”

“Sure you've still got the hang of it.”

“You might have to remind me,” Nicky teases. Shane grins, squeezes his hand, then lets go. “Hug?”

“Yeah.”

Press together. Arms around him and oh god this is right. The fit of them and Shane's neck craning a little to rest his chin on Nicky's shoulder. The little differences between thirty-two and almost forty. The things that haven't changed a damn bit.

“Love you,” Nicky murmurs. Shane nods.

Neither of them let go right away.

*

Despite the water rushing past his ears, Nicky is too aware of Shane moving around in the bedroom.

He knows it. Better than himself. Infuriatingly domestic despite the fact that Shane isn't his wife and he isn't Shane's. Even though he's probably spent more individual minutes with his ex-bandmate than anyone else. Current bandmate. Bandmate-in-waiting.

Though she'd caught up over the last seven years. Edged ahead and maybe that was it. Familiarity. Maybe that was all it had been, clinging to someone who was always there despite what his heart said. What it said at three in the morning a week after the farewell, staring at the ceiling and feeling an empty space in his gut.

Westlife isn't all he is. He's done other things. Succeeded and failed under his own steam. Shane isn't all he is either.

Still, some things don't ever go away.

Not really.

He twists the tap off. Stands for a minute in the steamy stall, listening. To the shuffle of feet on carpet. The slight scrape as Shane knocks something over on the nightstand then rights it again. Squeak of the mattress.

Heavy, thoughful silence.

“Shane?” he calls, through the steam and closed door.

There's another silence.

“Yeah?” Unsure.

“I...” He breathes out. “I don't want you to go.” He swallows. Feels a little faint and blames it on the heat, not the semi that's been aching between his legs since Shane arrived. “Take your clothes off and get in the bed, yeah?” There's nothing, but then he hears the squeak of Shane standing back up, the shuffle of toed-off shoes.

“Covers up or covers down?”

“Covers up,” he decides. “Close the curtains as well, and turn the lights off.” The shuffling continues until he hears the click of the lightswitch. The squeak of the mattress. The whisper of the covers. Closes his eyes and imagines Shane there. Like back in the old days. In a bed in a hotel room in the dark and Nicky slipping in beside him. Kissing him awake.

He breathes out.

Right.

Right, yeah.

The darkness blinds him when the door opens. He closes it quickly. Blinking and stood still and wondering if Shane can see him back, stood naked while his eyes adjust and fuck he's hard. Fuck.

“Nicky?”

He blinks. Finds the shape of Shane. Four steps forward, leg up, the mattress under his knee, then scooting down under the sheets, letting Shane pull them up over him. The springs settle under him, the pillow under his head.

Gentle knuckles drifting down his cheek. He shivers. Catches a passing thumb in his mouth for a kiss then lets it go.

“Want to hold you,” Shane breathes. Nicky murmurs agreement. Rolls towards him. Skin and hair and burying his damp hair in a strong shoulder. Lips on his temple and the darkness eating him alive while fingers curl in his nape and he lifts his thigh over. Traps Shane and feels them together.

Urgent.

“Oh hi,” Nicky breathes, wondering. Hears a strained laugh back. “God.” Their mouths find each other. More an embrace than a kiss, sliding lips and tongues. Strokes his hands down to find the shape. Back and hips and arse and thighs that flex into his grip.

Feels Shane do the same. A mess of hands. Slow stroke speeding up. Testing the edges first, more sure as Nicky remembers how to do this. How Shane likes to be touched. How he likes it, come to that, when it's larger, stronger hands and the taste of Shane's breath in his mouth.

Shane begins to slide down. To take care of him.

“No.” His arms tighten on a narrow waist. “Stay up here.” Sweet head-tilt. “Stay here,” he says again. “Don't... leave me.” The smile softens.

“I won't.” Fond peck on his mouth. “What do you want?”

“You. I just...” He breathes out. “There's lube in the drawer. If...”

“Who are we using it on?”

“I don't _care_ ,” Nicky groans. Shane is giggling, half atop him. Nicky kicks him in the shin. “Shut up.”

“You're so fucking desperate.”

“Two hours early.”

“Touche,” Shane laughs. Nicky's missed that laugh. Missed being the reason for it. “But now we have time to make out for a bit and see where it goes,” he points out. “So I'm actually clever after all.”

“You?”

 _“You?”_ Shane mocks, in the stupid voice he always uses. Nicky groans. Can't believe he's allowed this arsehole to seduce him again. “Prick.”

“Eejit.”

“Bollocks.”

“Gobshite,” Nicky snarls, laughing.

“Fuck me,” Shane retorts. Nicky pauses. Sees hazel eyes blink in the dark. “Fuck me,” Shane says again, quieter. Fingers trace Nicky's jaw, down his throat. A palm presses against his heart. “Like you used to.” Breathes out. “Do you remember?” Nicky swallows. Nods. “I think about it.”

“Me too.” They're rolling again. This time Nicky's on top, though they have to kick for a minute to untangle the sheets from their legs. Shane blinking up at him.

“I bought...” He thinks Shane's face might be a little red. “A bought a thing. Off the internet. I... fuck myself with it sometimes. When I'm missing-”

Nicky swears. Buries his face in Shane's shoulder. His cock's about poking through Shane's thigh, though he lifts his hips a little and feels the leaking surge of a warning when they connect.

“Sorry.”

“No. Fine. Fuck, I hope you're going to let me watch one of these days.”

“So we're back together, are we?”

“Let's get through this one first.” He laughs brokenly, the image too good. “Shane fucking Filan.” Feels laughter against his cheek. “What's that like?”

“Good. I mean, not as good as...” Fingers curl in his hair. “It's um. Got like a suction cup? So I can stick it to the wall when I'm really up for it.”

“You go hard?” He rasps it in Shane's ear. Feels the shiver. God this is too much.

“Yeah,” Shane breathes back. His chest is heaving in quick, aroused pants. “I... god I fuck myself. Like when you used to bend me over the bed and.” His hand slips between them. Gathers them both up for a second, though it lets go and dips further after a moment. “I used to love that.”

“We'll do it again. We'll do it all again,” Nicky growls. Reaches for the lube when he sees Shane's face pinch in discomfort. Pleasure. “You're not going to let me do that?”

“So do it.” Dark eyes flutter, then roll back. “Oh.”

“Shaney,” Nicky whispers. Slicks his hand quickly then reaches down to meet him. Other arm propping an elbow beside Shane's head so he can watch. “Oh, love.” Circles the familiar pucker of him, knot of muscle that gives, just slightly. More when he presses, massaging it with his fingertips. Shane whimpers. Clings to his shoulders with both hands, catching his mouth. Hips dancing a rhythm that grinds to a low bassline of pleasure.

Nicky kisses him. Takes it slow. Doesn't want to rush this. Not this.

He's got his second finger halfway in when Shane cries out suddenly and bucks on his hand. Grips his shoulders. Tips his head back and bleats a warning that has Nicky pulling away.

“Okay?”

“Don't stop,” Shane rasps. Nicky grins. Mashes their lips together and feels the desperate suck of Shane's body taking him in. Pulsing on his fingers while he finds that little knot of nerves and starts a slow rub that has Shane rutting in his arms, sticky trails against his belly and spit on his mouth.

It's a difficult few minutes until he knows Shane's ready. Feels the easing of tight muscles and the gulping invitation of his breath. He's slid off during the preparations but now he climbs on again. Spreads trembling legs out and up. Bites his lip at the perfect, wanton sight of Shane open for him. Staring eyes cast in shadow. Hands that brace lean arms against the bedhead.

The weight of calves on his shoulders when he shifts in and lines himself up, one hand on Shane's hip to guide it. Nicky struggles not to laugh.

“What?”

“Just...” He shakes his head. Shane is grinning shyly. “Were we always this ridiculous?”

“Worse.”

“True.” He exhales. Looks down again. “Tell me if it hurts.” Shane nods. “I love you.” Shane murmurs it back. “Okay.”

He presses. Feels the natural rejection of the body under him. The whimper of the man. But Shane isn't telling him to stop and a moment later.

A moment later.

“Ah,” Nicky gasps. Grabs the bedhead with his free hand to steady himself. Fuck. Tight and hot and the sudden suctioning pop as his cock edges past the first breach. “Oh for the love of-” Tense laugh beneath him. “Oh Jesus tell me I can keep going.”

“You'd better.” Heels dig into his shoulders when he bends forward into a hard kiss. Shane's knees up to his ears but spreading open while Nicky sinks. Sinks so deep he can't come out. Won't. Shan't.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Shane gasps. Wrapped around each other, Shane's knees over his shoulders and Nicky trying to figure out how to get a hand between them. Shane's sorted, though. Is doing the work for both of them, rocking down onto his cock. Grinding up against his stomach. Desperate and ruthless, hands on the headboard for leverage while Nicky lifts and meets him. Thrust for thrust. A grunt for every soft, broken cry spilling over Shane's lips. His balls slapping Shane's perfect arse and he is not. fucking. stopping.

“Harder,” Shane growls. Nicky obeys. Meant this to be soft, he thinks. But there's time for that later. This is...

“Shay, I...”

 _“Harder.”_ A hand grasps his hair, wrenches him into a hard kiss. Their hips stutter. Slam when he finds the rhythm again, a satisfied howl blurting into his mouth and filling him up. Shane's mouth tearing away and head tipping back and both of them braced by that one arm, the elbow trembling as Nicky

takes him

and takes him

and takes him

“Right-there-right-there-” Shane sobs. “Right...” Twitches. Arches and his passage flexes and oh Christ that's tight.

“There?” Shane moans his name plaintively. “Shay.”

“Ni-” Catches his trembling lip between his teeth and. “Nicky oh.” Breathing. The way Shane does. High and deliberate and chasing the edge. Savouring the crest. “Uh- _uh_ -uh- _uh_ -uh-”

“Come on me,” Nicky growls. Presses them harder to keep the rub tight. “Oh my god, Shane.” Snarls a bite into a corded throat. Feels hips splay then try to close, desperately fanning the pleasure. “Come on my cock. My Shane.”

Nails tear his shoulders. He doesn't give a fuck.

A punched groan. Spurt of wetness between them that only makes it easier to keep the rhythm. Slipping between them while Shane tenses and tenses and then falls, limp, one leg sliding from Nicky's shoulder

Nicky doesn't stop. Not while eyes are going heavy-lidded. While Shane's licking his lips and letting out sighs of effort still. His chest is flushed red. Nicky's eyes have long adjusted to the dim and it's all he can see in the creeping light between the curtains. Shane. Slick with both their sweat and fluids. Still the goddamn same.

“My Nicky,” Shane breathes. “Missed you.”

Nicky doesn't break eye-contact until he's done.

Nestled in trembling arms, he feels Shane laugh. Smiles as well. Nips exhaustedly at a mouthful of chesthair and hears a stung yelp. A hand swats his arse.

“Didn't hurt you?”

“Course not.” Shane's legs move stiffly beneath him. “Might borrow a paracetamol.”

“Might you.”

“Headache.”

“Obviously.” He skates his hand down, feels a flinch when he tickles over Shane's hole. “As good as your toy?”

“Better. I can never find the right shape. The curve's not quite...” Shane stops when he realises Nicky's laughing. “Look, it's been a long seven years.”

“Apparently.” Nicky smiles into his chest. “How long we got?”

“Half an hour? We'll need a shower.”

“I'll get some lunch on. The lads'll want feeding.” He runs his fingers through sweaty hair and wonders if this is what it would have been like, circumstances being different. Shagging each other's brains out then organising food for company. Sharing a shower. Shane borrowing Nicky's toothbrush.

He's just finished sorting out some sandwiches when the doorbell rings. They both pause. Shane's sat on the countertop with a cup of coffee like he's meant to be there, though he smiles over the rim at Nicky's look.

“Go on.”

“Yeah.” Nicky ducks into the hall. Clocks two shapes behind the glass and when he opens it Kian grins and hugs him. Mark lingers back until it's his turn.

“Sorry we're late. Knocked on the neighbour's door by accident,” Kian explains. Nicky rolls his eyes, because of course they did. He's only been living here fifteen years. “Shane here yet?”

“Cuppa?” Shane calls. Kian wanders off while Mark leans in for a hug as well.

“Hiya.” He sniffs. “You smell like spunk.”

“I had a free morning,” Nicky teases him. Mark wrinkles up his nose and pulls away, off to where Nicky can hear the bubble of rising steam from the kitchen. Stops in the doorway to look at three idiots arguing over directions and milk and god knows what else.

They look perfect.

“Get away from it.” Kian pulls his head out of the fridge. “Patio. Somebody take the sandwiches. I'll get the coffee. Mark, there's a fresh packet of biscuits in the cupboard.” There's a scurry of commotion as everyone does what they're told. “No crumbs in the carpet.”

“Yes dad,” Mark mutters, and ducks past. Kian follows.

Shane lingers in the doorway for a moment.

“S'pose the band's back on.”

“S'pose it is.” Nicky touches his shoulder. “Go on. We've got stuff to talk about.” Shane nods and doesn't move. “What are you waiting for?”

“Just... looking.” Nicky nudges Shane away with a laugh.

“There'll be time for that later,” he points out. “Go on.” Shane backs through the door, and for a moment Nicky hears laughter that makes his heart warm. It swings shut again.

He sorts out the coffee quickly and goes to join them.


End file.
